


Bravado

by mallfacee



Series: Make Room for the Parts that Aren't You [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disabled Character, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Sirius Black Adopts Harry Potter, Sirius is Freed AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16686817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallfacee/pseuds/mallfacee
Summary: In his head, Sirius had a lot of ideas of what raising Harry would be like. Raising a disabled Harry had never been a part of the equation.Or, the one where Sirius learns how to be a goddamn adult.





	Bravado

**Author's Note:**

> So this takes place in my universe where Harry had Ulcerative Colitis as a kid that resulted in him relying on an ostomy bag. For the purposes of this AU Sirius was freed at the end of POA.

June 25, 1994

Sirius’ favorite part about being free was being able to sleep as long as he liked. Oh, sure having a wand and all his friends around was great. Getting his godson to live with him was terrific. But sleeping in without a worry that he could be awakened any minute with news of his impending death, that was what got Sirius up in the mornings. 

Well, _ most _ mornings. This particular Saturday morning, Sirius awoke to a knock on his bedroom door. He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, 5:00 AM ticking away in front of his bleary eyes. For a moment he seriously considered just ignoring it and going back to sleep. But then Harry’s voice came from outside the door, a quiet little, “Sirius?” that had him on his feet before it quite registered. 

There was a part of him that couldn’t help but smile. He had Harry here. And Harry may be thirteen, but he still needed Sirius. There was still something he could do. Sirius opened his doors to reveal his sleepy godson. 

“What’s up kiddo?” Sirius said. 

“Where do we keep the sheets?” Harry asked with a yawn. Sirius stepped out of the room and walked over to the hall closet. 

“Right up here. Everything alright?” He asked, grabbing Harry down a new set of linens. 

“Yeah. Just slept through my alarm and my bag leaked,” Harry said, gesturing vaguely towards his stoma. “Happens.” 

“Right,” Sirius said. “Do you um… need any help?” 

Harry shook his head and took the sheets from him. “I’m old hat at this by now,” Harry said. “I’ll wash the sheets in the morning. Night Siri.” Harry leaned up and gave Sirius a sleepy kiss on the cheek. Sirius smiled softly. He hadn’t anticipated that his godson would be so affectionate, but it was a welcome surprise. 

Sirius watched Harry amble back down the hall to his bedroom, and stayed there until Harry was in his room. It was only then that Sirius let his smile fall. Shaking his head, he went back to bed. 

 

\---

 

Sirius hadn’t been sure what to think when Moony first told him about Harry’s condition. Being Harry’s teacher, Remus had had to be informed. But dealing with it as a teacher, and dealing with it as a guardian were two different things. Sirius wasn’t sure where he stood. 

Remus had said that Harry seemed very comfortable in his skin regarding his disability, and took it in good humor when his friends teased him about it. But Remus had also told Sirius about Harry’s boggart during his first Patronus lesson. 

Both Remus and Harry had been sure that his boggart would turn into a dementor. After all, that’s why Remus had disallowed him to try it in class in the first place. But when Remus released the boggart, it was not a dementor. Harry’s boggart had taken shape as himself. Except boggart-Harry was on his knees, screaming, his ostomy bag ripped off leaving Harry’s stoma to spew blood and what Remus had delicately referred to as output across the floor. Remus ended up stepping in front of the boggart and taking care of it. Harry didn’t look his professor in the eye for a week. 

It was hard for Sirius to wrap his head around. Harry, his Harry, was disabled. Harry had a surgery in which his colon was removed, and part of his intestine was made to stick out from his stomach in order to work. Harry relied on an ostomy bag. These were all undeniable facts. But the idea that Harry could be sick could have something wrong with him didn’t feel real. This disabled Harry didn’t match up with the Harry Sirius saw every day. He would look at his godson doing summer homework at the kitchen table, or go flying with his friends, and wonder how on earth he was supposed to reconcile this happy normal teenager with someone who was sick. 

He had vaguely asked Harry after the boy had moved in if there was anything he needed. Harry had just shrugged and said he’d let him know if he needed more bags, but that Pomfrey had duplicated a bunch for him and it wouldn’t be a problem. That had been the end of that conversation.

Sirius caught himself looking over Harry’s stomach occasionally, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of the stoma or ostomy bag peeking through Harry’s shirt. He wondered vaguely what the stoma looked like or how it even worked. Sirius was too embarrassed to ask. 

So instead Sirius ignored it. Harry seemed fine. He looked like he had a good handle on things. Sirius didn’t see the point in embarrassing the both of them when there was no reason too. This was just a thing that Harry did. Sirius tried to put the idea as far out of his mind as he could. 

 

\---

 

The next reminder came a week later at breakfast. Ron and Hermione had slept over the night before, and the four of them were enjoying breakfast in the kitchen of Grimmauld place. Ron was in the middle of regaling the group with the sordid details accompanying the upcoming Quidditch World Cup when a loud gurgling sound akin to a clogged drain being unplugged interrupted. 

All three kids began to giggle. 

“Dammit Leroy!” Ron said jokingly. “Always stealing my thunder.” 

Harry laughed and placed a protective hand over his stoma. “Be nice. He’s sensitive!”

“Oh, of course. I see where I stand in this friendship.” 

“Obviously, our friendship group from best to worst goes, me, Harry, Leroy, and then you,” Hermione teased. 

“Brightest witch of her age, my arse,” Ron said. “More like the meanest witch of her age!” 

The three began to laugh again. 

Sirius gave a small cough. “Um, who’s Leroy?” 

“Oh, that’s what we call Harry’s stoma,” Ron said as if that explained everything. 

“You named your stoma?” Sirius asked, turning to Harry. That was a bit weird, right? 

“Um, yeah,” Harry said with a blush. “It was Hermione’s idea. Cause I used to be embarrassed about it, and she read somewhere that a lot of people with ostomies name their stomas as a way to normalize it. So it’s just like a part of me, you know, instead of some weird thing to be embarrassed about.” 

“Fred and George came up with the name, though,” Hermione supplied. “Oliver Wood thought we should name it ‘Finbar Quigley’ after the Irish Chaser, but we all thought it was a bit of a mouthful.”

“How many people know about your stoma?” Sirius asked with a frown. 

Harry shrugged. “Just about everyone I guess. I mean I tried to hide it a lot at first, but once all the professors and my friends knew, it just seemed silly to hide it. I mean I’d rather just ask to leave class to deal with my ostomy bag than be all secretive about it and have people spread rumors that I’m getting special treatment cause I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.” 

Sirius nodded, unsure what to make of Harry’s attitude. He couldn’t understand how Harry was so okay with this. 

“Can I get back to my story now?” Ron interrupted. That ended all conversation of Harry’s stoma, and breakfast went on as normal until the kids had finished and elected to go down to road to the corner store for Muggle candy and fizzy drinks. Sirius supplied them with £40 in Muggle money and ignored the way Harry and Hermione’s eyes widened at the amount. Sirius didn’t know much about Muggle money, but he figured if he hadn’t given them enough they could always come back to the house. He didn’t need three hyperactive teenagers hopped up on sugar anyway. 

Once they had left Sirius sat down at the table pressing his face into his palms. The conversation at breakfast had unsettled him. He wasn’t sure how to come to terms with his new realization: Harry’s condition made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think about Harry’s stoma and all the things that came along with it. The idea left a somewhat sick feeling in his stomach. He also wasn’t prepared for the sheer amount of guilt that came along with this realization. He was Harry’s guardian. He was supposed to be the adult in this situation, dammit! He was supposed to be on Harry’s side, be the one Harry came to when he needed help. But Sirius didn’t know how to help with this. Or, more to the point, Sirius wasn’t sure if he could stomach what helping with this entailed. 

The most he could do was try and deal with it, he supposed. There was nothing for it. It wasn’t as if he could just send Harry back to the Dursleys, and there was no magic fix for what had been done to Harry. Sirius would simply buck it up and hope that there was never any real issues with Harry’s disability that would require his help. And he would never,  _ ever,  _ let Harry know about his doubts. It was the least he could do for his godson. 

 

\---

 

Of course, there came the point where ignoring it no longer was an option. A week before Harry’s birthday, Sirius awoke to the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. He was on his feet and in the bathroom down the hall from Harry’s room before he could even quite register what was happening. 

Sirius couldn’t help the way his heart broke when he opened the bathroom door. Harry was curled up on the bathroom floor clutching his stomach. Tears were streaming down his face, mixing with the sweat that sat on Harry’s clammy skin. Evidently, the flu that had been going around the Weasley household was in fact contagious. 

Sirius sat on the floor next to Harry, running his hands through his hair. He could see the large stain on Harry’s pajamas where his ostomy bag had leaked. Sirius helped Harry to his knees, pulling his godson close to him, whispering soothing words. 

“It’s alright. You’re okay,” he said, holding Harry close. Harry was burning up. His godson couldn’t respond beyond crying into Sirius’ shoulder.  

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, alternating between holding Harry and rubbing Harry’s back while the boy was sick. He vaguely registered that the leak from Harry’s bag had gotten onto his own clothes, but found that he didn’t quite care. Harry was what was important just then. 

After a while, it seemed Harry was done being sick. 

“Okay,” Sirius said soothingly. “We’re going to get you cleaned up and get some potions in you. Then I think you’re in need of a good long sleep. How does that sound?” 

Harry nodded sleepily, and let Sirius prop him against the cabinet and fill the tub with lukewarm water. It was only when Sirius went to remove Harry’s pajamas that Harry protested. 

“No,” He said, pushing Sirius’ hand away from his nightshirt. “Don’t want you to see.”

Sirius didn’t think his heart could hurt more than it did at that moment. 

“And here I thought it was my job to take care of you when you’re sick,” Sirius said. “Harry, I’ve changed your diapers. There’s nothing I haven’t seen.” 

“‘S different,” Harry mumbled. 

“Maybe. But either way, it’s my turn to be the adult just now. So if you’d let me try my hand at this whole parenting thing, I’d really appreciate it.” 

Harry either got Sirius’ point or was too delirious to argue. Regardless, Harry allowed Sirius to remove his pajamas. Sirius hadn’t been quite sure what to expect when he saw the ostomy bag. Perhaps something large and grotesque with tubes sticking out. Instead, it was just a small opaque plastic bag that appeared to be glued to Harry’s right side. Gently, he unstuck the ostomy bag and vanished it, before casting a spell to clean off Harry’s abdomen. 

And there it was, Harry’s stoma. It sat just above his pelvic bone. Just a pink fleshy bump about the size of a fist. No intense scarring or deformed skin. Just a pink bump and a couple of tiny scars around Harry’s belly button. It wasn’t particularly large or intimidating. In fact, Sirius couldn’t help but notice how normal it all seemed. It looked different than another kid’s stomach sure, but this was Harry. And this was Harry’s stoma. And suddenly Sirius couldn’t remember why he had been so uncomfortable with this, why the idea of this pink bump had scared him so much. 

Sirius helped Harry into the tub before going to get the potions. Once Harry had been cleaned up and given a fever reducer potion, he was a bit more lucid. Or at least lucid enough to give Sirius instructions on how to help put a new ostomy bag on. Harry still seemed a bit embarrassed, but Sirius strangely found that he wasn’t. 

He helped Harry back into bed and was about to leave when Harry asked feebly “Stay please?” 

Sirius smiled and crawled into the teenager’s bed, letting Harry curl up around him. After a while, Harry had rolled over in his sleep, and Sirius found his hand resting on Harry’s stomach. He felt the way his godson breathed, and held him close. Harry’s hand, he noticed, was pressed against his stoma, as if the boy was protecting it in his sleep. Sirius put his hand over Harry’s, feeling the bump where Harry’s stoma was. 

The last thing Sirius thought before he fell asleep was that, perhaps, Harry was the bravest kid he knew. 

**Author's Note:**

> The whole "naming your stoma" is a very real thing and a lot of people with ostomies find it a good way to help normalize the idea of having an ostomy.


End file.
